from the chair
by dulosis
Summary: Everyone has their own ways of avoiding... things. So, what happens when two decidedly individual people hiding from said ... things! run into each other in the oddest of places? PansyGinny, PG13, ONESHOT


**For:** confiteor3//lj

**Author:** elemenohpee//lj (hiddengoddess36)

**Title:** from the chair  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Length:** 3182  
**Pairing(s):** Pansy/Ginny, mentions of past Pansy/Hannah and Ginny/Luna  
**Summary:** Everyone has their own ways of avoiding... things. So, what happens when two decidedly individual people (hiding from said ... things!) run into each other in the oddest of places?  
**Warning(s):** A sheer lack of smut! No, but really. There is lots of fluff, and there are _dentists_ (o.o) and also Belgium.  
**Note:** this is one of those dental offices which have seperate rooms for those with tooth examinations. Also, **orimornie//lj** is a wonderful beta! All remaining mistakes are my own 

"I shkill kant gelishe oo're a _genist_," Ginny says, speaking around a mouthful of tooth cleaning devices and fingers.

Pansy smirks behind her mask. "I'm more of a dental hygienist," she murmurs, brushing what seems to be the billionth tooth in Ginny's mouth. "Mkay, spit."

"Guh, ooah are..." Ginny complies. "What are the odds?"

"That I work a Muggle job? That I work in a dentist's office? That... Oh, sit back, I need to work on your lower teeth."

"That you're working for _this_ dentist," Ginny replies, leaning back again. "And that you're in _Belgium_."

_fifteen minutes ago_  
Pansy finished up with her appointment, shooed him out of the chair. "_Daar u bent, alle stellen, u zult moeten plannen een benoeming volgende week die holte vullen te laten, zal onze receptionist u met dat helpen._" There you are, all set, you'll need to schedule an appointment next week to get that cavity filled, our receptionist will help you with that.

She put all of her tools in the cleaning machine and set out some clean ones for her next appointment. She walked to the waiting room, consulted her clipboard. "Ginevra Melbourne?"

A woman, maybe her age, with brilliant red hair stood up. "_Ja_?"

Pansy blinked. She could have _sworn_... but no. There was no chance. "_Kom op, dan_." Come on, then.

Ms. Melbourne followed her to the chair. She paused. "_Alstublieft -- u kijkt vertrouwd_." Please-- you look familiar

"_Ja_," Pansy said, unsure what to say. "_U doe, ook. Zit._" You do, too. Sit

Ms. Melbourne sat. "Do you speak English?"

"Of _course_ I speak English, we always speak English," Pansy muttered distractedly, lining up the instruments again.

"No, I just. I mean, it's... you sound like you grew up with English, not Dutch."

"_Danke_," Pansy returned, sarcastically, still not turning around.

"I'm serious! Are you?"

Pansy sneaked a look around. Ms. Melbourne looked almost _eager_, almost like _Weasley_...

"What?" Ms Melbourne's voice was deadly quiet, almost scarily calm. "What did you just say?"

"_Danke_, you mean?"

"No, I mean Weasley." Ms. Melbourne was looking at her solemnly, almost sternly, but Pansy fancied that she could detect a bit of fear in the other woman's gaze.

"Oh, I must have been thinking out loud, sorry, you reminded me of one of my old school mates"

"We were never mates," Ms. Melbourne returned, curiously.

Pansy stared. "_Weasley?_"

And Ginny nodded.

_back in the present_

Pansy speaks softly as she works on Ginny's teeth. "I came to Belgium after the war. It's safer here, no one pegs me as dangerous. Spit."

Ginny spits. "But you're a _Muggle_?"

"I'm _living_ like a Muggle, there's a difference. Open wider." Pansy taps Ginny's teeth, presumably checking for cavities. "Wider."

"Ut oo on't oose ngagic," Ginny says.

Pansy takes the probe out of Ginny's mouth. "Did you just say, 'but you don't use magic'?" Ginny nods, so Pansy pushes the probe back. "I thought so. And who says I don't use it?"

"Uggle"

"You mean living like a Muggle implies it?"

Ginny tries to nod again, but Pansy's shoved more dental _stuff_ in her mouth, and she doesn't want to dislodge it. "My living as a Muggle, it means nothing," Pansy informs her as she adjusts the overhead light. "Why do you think that all my patients, or whatever you'd like to call them, like _me_ so much? Their teeth _never_ hurt when I'm working on them."

Ginny widens her eyes in response, a sort of _you use magic on _Muggles sort of look, but the light is glaring so she shuts them again, and Pansy is momentarily caught by just how fragile Ginny seems, how delicate and how beautiful... She shivers the thought away and switches off the lights, drawing the probes and mirrors and all out of Ginny's mouth. Pansy clears her throat, briskly rubs her gloved thumb at the corner of Ginny's mouth, where a bit of toothpaste remains, and runs the thumb over Ginny's lips. "Open," she says. "I want to get one last look."

Ginny's lips part, and Pansy silently chides herself for fancying that Ginny's breath is a bit quicker. She leans in, switching the light on again, runs her forefinger over Ginny's teeth, and withdraws. Ginny opens her eyes as Pansy turns the light off again, and for a split second Pansy thinks that they're darker than normal, wider. But she wouldn't know, she never really knew Ginny back at school, and never since she left, and _now_...

...now, Ginny is some Ms. Melbourne who is in Belgium for some unfathomable reason-- Pansy suspects it has a great deal to do with children and 'proper schools', Melbourne sounds like thebint married above her station.

"So are my teeth clean enough?" Ginny asks, with just a touch of amusement, and Pansy is startled.

"Oh, oh, oh, yes. I've finished, I'll just get the dentist to check over you, Ms. Melbourne."

Ginny frowns. "Thought you were the dentist?"

"Dental _hygienist_, Weasley, not the dentist. There's a difference." Pansy flaps her hands a bit, smiling widely to show she doesn't mind the mistake.

But Ginny's eyebrows suddenly clenched. "I'm Ginevra _Melbourne_, not _Weasley_, _Parkinson_."

Pansy raises her own. "Who would Mr. Melbourne be, then?"

"Oh, you know. One of those Durmstrang type, pureblood, filthy rich, pro-Dark Lord, loves fucking me when I'm tied up..." Ginny giggles at Pansy's stricken expression. "There is no Mr. Melbourne."

"I'm terrible sorry," Pansy murmurs, unsure as to what to say, working very hard on _not_ thinking about Ginny tied up...

Ginny laughs again. "There never _was_ a Mr. Melbourne, Parkinson."

"Oh," Pansy says, but she hides her confusion behind a strictly-business exterior.

"You're terribly curious, aren't you?" Ginny asks Pansy, still smiling widely.

"And apparently as transparent as a window," Pansy mutters.

Ginny's grin turns into a smirk. "Only a little." She falls silent, and Pansy shifts uncomfortably.

"Come on, Wea - Melbourne! Could you maybe _please_ tell me the story behind the name?"

Ginny laughs a little, somewhat derisively. "I thought you had to get the dentist?"

"He's out to lunch," Pansy sighs. It's true, but she hadn't _really_ wanted to hang around Ginny until she mentioned the lack of a Mr. Melbourne. "He won't be back for fifteen minutes, minimum."

"You were going to have me stay here, just... _sitting_, for fifteen minutes?" Ginny asks. She sounds amused, but Pansy can't really tell.

"Perhaps twenty."

Ginny laughs outright. "Well, fine, if it's going to take _that_ long, I might as well."

Pansy tries not to look too anticipatory.

"It started with the end of the war. You-Know-Who was dead, you know, and a... well. Lots of people were... very excited. But you know all of that, don't you? About the riots and the three Muggles who died as a cross-effect of the celebrations of some wizards?" Ginny waits for Pansy's nod, and, receiving it, continues. "It settled down a little bit, but everyone who was involved with the ultimate demise of You-Know-Who, they were... revered perhaps a little too much. You know how Harry's entire private life was completely gutted and splayed to the public? And how Hermione and Ron had the mostpublicised wedding in a decade? And how... how Luna was caught up in a riot of people so excited that she was visiting Hogsmeade? And how she, how she almost died from the suffocation? I... couldn't handle it. I couldn't, couldn't see my entire life put before the entirety of Wizarding Britain, no secrets, no privacy... so Ginny Weasley died. To everyone but Ron, and Hermione and Neville and Luna and almost all of the rest of the team backing Harry up, Ginny Weasley died of the residual effects of a wasting spell-- the garden gnome we Polyjuiced didn't mind too much. And the, well, Ginevra Melbourne set up in Bruges, learned how to make the lace that it is so famous for. She earned her money, lived a sparse life with next to no magic, and didn't have much of any contact with any of her old friends, except for when Ron and Hermione visited twice, and Luna once, in the past seven years."

Pansy is almost-- almost! speechless.

"Oh, oh," she says, and stops to figure out how to phrase everything. "I... had no idea. I'm very sorry you had to leave them?" She wants to ask what brings Ginny to Hasselt, but isn't sure how that would be received.

"Oh, I dunno," Ginny - Ginevra - says. "I miss them, yeah, but I knew I wasn't very likely to see them again, hear from them again, after I left. It's not the _worst_ thing that could happen - I could be followed, my every move could be followed... I came here, to Hasselt, because a Daily Prophet reporter showed up in Bruges, something about a Wizarding school they're setting up over there, so I got as far away as I could, and still be in Flanders... I like Flanders a fair sight better than I liked Britain, I think."

Pansy nods. "I... suppose that it's good that you're doing well?"

Ginny ignores this. She sits up, shakes her head a little (Pansy's eyes are drawn to her hair, how it seems almost liquid in the fluorescent lights of the office), tucks it behind her ears. "What brings _you_ here?"

"Oh!" Pansy replies, completely surprised by the questions - though perhaps a little more surprised that she hadn't anticipated it. "I was basically getting away from my Death Eater rap. I was never marked, never fully supported them... both people on Harry's side and on the Dark Lord's side were searching for me, looking to do me in, I think. So... I left. I had no chances of becoming amediwitch , so I went into Muggle university and studied and became a dental hygienist. Madame Pomfery, she changed all my scores from Hogwarts into Muggle-like scores when I told her I was interesting into going into Muggle medicine, before the war truly broke out... I got into school easily... but yes, I was basically escaping."

Ginny nods. "When do you get off?"

Pansy blinks hard. "Beg pardon?"

"I was wondering when your shift ends?" Pansy may be mistaken, but Ginny looks a little pink... "Because I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a coffee when you're done?"

"Coffee is bad for your teeth," Pansy returns, then laughs at herself. "Pay me no heed, that's the dentist in me speaking. I'd love to."

---

They do go out for coffee that evening (Pansy's shift was all but over), and speak over hot cups of the bitter drink. They argue, a little, but on the whole, enjoy themselves thoroughly. They reminisce about the old days, back in Hogwarts before the war truly started (both are guilty of rose-tinted memories), laugh, and talk some more.

Ginny leaves for her hotel room with a smile on her face, a _genuine_ smile, and Pansy mirrors her expression privately.

It's almost accidental at first. They run into each other at the market and discuss the ins and outs of various Belgian delicacies. They run into each other again, the next day, in front of the Virga Jesse Basilica (Ginny is visiting for the first time, wide-eyed at the carvings. Pansy has been there sixty times before, perhaps, but she loves the fragile silence of the cathedral). Pansy shows Ginny around, and they go for coffee again. They set a date for Ginny to visit Pansy, at her place, so that they can each show off the cooking skills they've gained in their years without magically-aided cooking, but the dinner inevitably goes wrong (bread is burned, milk is sour), so they go out to a restaurant, and Ginny asks Pansy to show her around the next week, point out the gardens.

Pansy points out the Japanese garden, the Kiewit nature field, the town park, and the next week, they go to museums.

Pansy begins to wonder whether Ginny is going to go back to Bruges at some point, wonders if Ginny is worried about the possibility of publicity there. She doesn't ask. She believes that Ginny will tell her, and she doesn't want Ginny to think that she _wants_ her to go. (Secretly, Pansy worries that Ginny will leave, and despairs for it in the privacy of her darkened home during sleepless nights. Ginny makes Hasselt beautiful, much more lovely than it used to be, despite the brilliance of its springtime. Ginny makes Hasselt beautiful even in thecolourless winter.)

In Pansy's darkened rooms, she remembers a girl she used to know, a girl who died right in front of her hiding spot during a battle of the war. A girl she used to love, until the girl died and her memory faded to the proof left behind in photos an passed notes. They used to kiss, down by the lake, kisses that always made Draco seem unsatisfactory. But then the girl died, and Pansy isn't sure which side killed her. There was crossfire, and blood, and Pansy crying for days (when the Dark Lord and his minions were in the  
other rooms).

Pansy remembers this girl, and wonders if Ginny might make the residing ache lessen, might speed time.

---

"Ginevra Melbourne?"

Ginny stands up. "Yes?"

"Your dental higeinist is ready for you. Follow me, please."

Pansy is sitting in the stool by the dental chair. She and Ginny haven't spoken for two weeks, not since Ginny told Pansy that she was going back to Bruges in June, see if it was safe. They almost had a terrible row (Pansy half-wishes they did), but Ginny just left when Pansy didn't respond, and Pansy hasn't initiated another conversation since.

"Pansy?"

"Ms. Melbourne, would you please sit down? The dental examination should start."

Ginny frowns at Pansy. "Melbourne?"

"That's your name, isn't it? Please, sit back, I need to start examining your mouth."

"Yes, you already said, but... you haven't... you called me Ginny two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago was different."

"Howso?!"

"Two weeks ago, you weren't leaving," Pansy says, because even though she knows that as a Slytherin she should lie, not seem weak, she can't say anything but the truth.

"Oh," Ginny says, and opens her mouth. "You can start now, I guess."

Pansy bends over her, probe in hand. If it weren't for the hygienic mask in between them, she would probably lose control and want to kiss Ginny. As it were, she licks her lips (Ginny can't see it, of course, there is the surgical mask), bites her tongue.

While Pansy gets the toothpaste to brush Ginny's teeth, Ginny looks at her. "Why would you stop talking to me, start calling me Melbourne, just from knowing I'm leaving?"

Pansy almost doesn't answer. "It's _because_ you're leaving."

Ginny grins. "Will you miss me, then?" she asks, teasing. Pansy swears, and Ginny's eyes fly open. "What is it, Pansy, because if you don't tell me what's wrong, I won't know what you're thinking!"

"Hannah," Pansy says.

Ginny blinks. "Hannah?"

Pansy sighs, turns around, toothbrush forgotten in her hand. "Look, Weasley - and yes, I know you're _not_ Weasley.Weasley is dead. But see here. I let Hannah go, seven years ago, and she was killed right in front of me. _Sectum..._ you know. Her blood got on me, Ginny, my hands, my sweater, my hair... I let her go, and she _died on me_."

"Oh."

They sit there, silent, for five minutes, both completely forgetting the reason why Ginny is there, both forgetting what Pansy is _supposed_ to do, _supposed_ to be (professional).

Suddenly, Ginny turns her face to Pansy. "You loved her very much, didn't you?"

Pansy's eyes fly open. "What?"

Ginny blushes. "Or maybe I'm wrong... but I asked if you were in love with her?"

"Oh," Pansy says, half-surprised that Ginny would understand this fact. "Yes."

Ginny nods, and swings her legs over the chair. "Come here."

Pansy almost protests, but she doesn't. She stands, walks over.

"I don't think this chair could hold the both of us," Ginny states. "Else I'd ask you sit sit next to me. But as it were..." She stands, embraces Pansy, pats her back. "I'm sorry."

Pansy nods into Ginny's hair, and tries and fails to hold back her tears. She sobs, getting her tears and possibly snot and drool in Ginny's hair, but Ginny doesn't seem to mind, she just strokes Pansy's hair and hugs her closer. "I bet no-one ever let you tell them, either," she whispers, and Pansy shakes her head.

Pansy loosens her embrace after a few minutes, and Ginny mirrors the action. Looking solidly out the window, Ginny states, "I didn't exactly lose Luna, you know, but I sort of did. I was just an experimentation to a straight girl; she was more than that to me."

And Pansy swivels, and stares at Ginny, and Ginny turns her head and stares back. Pansy raises an eyebrow, and Ginny nods.

Pansy takes the rest of the day off as a personal day. Ginny's examination is never completed, but she pays, and Pansy tells her coworkers to ignore the incompleteness of her appointment, so no-one minds. They sit in silence in the pews in the back row of the Virga Jesse Basilica, not crying, but drawing strength from each other, from their held hands, and from the history of the building.

Neither one says it, but they both feel that the wars and periods of peace, the difficulties (both surmounted and not) and the centuries of aging that the Basilica has gone through provides a silent strength to those who visit. They absorb this strength, and share it, and when they leave (they're ready to go at the same time), they both feel much, much better.

They eat a quiet dinner in Pansy's house, and snuggle on the couch after. Neither expressedly says it, but they both know that in the future, there will be a time for them to kiss, a time for them to know passion again. There will be nights of blistering fights, nights of stony silence, and nights of tousled bedsheets and come. There will be nightmares and daydreams, compromise and change. There will be the possibility of going back to Britain again, if both of them feel ready, if they lose their fear, if only for a visit. There will be the possibility of Ginny moving in, of Pansy quitting her job (Merlin knows they have enough money, pooled together, to last them a lifetime. Merlin knows that they won't need the hours taken up with emptylabour if they have hours of each other, and Merlin also knows that they'll probably need their time apart), there will be the possibility of a forever, or perhaps of just a sometime.

But they both know that these things take time, and, if nothing else, time is what they have in abundance. The time isn't right for kisses and sex and forevers right now, nor is it right for Ginny moving or ignoring the past entirely in lieu of the future.

Both Pansy and Ginny know that, though the time is not right for all of that now, it will be. They both know that, at the moment, their comfort and friendship and, yes, love, is enough for the time being, but in a little while (perhaps three years, perhaps three months, perhaps three weeks), they will need more, and then will come the passion and the tempestuous nights.

But for now, all they need is the couch and the single blanket and each other, and a hug.


End file.
